


(after all is) said and done

by Caliente (Bether)



Series: FanFic100 (Dani Moonstar) [11]
Category: Avengers: The Initiative, Marvel (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Betaed, Canon Compliant, Community: fanfic100, Friendship, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Missing Scene, One Shot, POV Male Character, POV Third Person, Past Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-06
Updated: 2007-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 14:52:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bether/pseuds/Caliente
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is tapped to ask for Dani's assistance with a struggling boy whose powers are not unlike those she lost on M-Day. It's not as easy a conversation as it ought to be for either party. || <a href="http://fanfic100.livejournal.com/">FanFic100</a> #60: Drink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(after all is) said and done

**Author's Note:**

> Set shortly before Avengers: The Initiative #2 and after X-Men v2 #193. The title comes from a line in Josh Groban's song _You're Still You_ : "and after all is said and done/you're still you."
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Characters mentioned are used without permission and are trademarks of Marvel Characters, Inc. I do not own them and am simply borrowing for my purposes. Nor do I own the song used to title this fic. Please don't sue.

He was already seated with a steaming drink in front of him and one of those black and white cookies he remembered Dani raving about when she finally swept into the coffeehouse. She was all business with a brisk gait and stiff shoulders, although he thought he saw her flash Luna a quick smile as she made her way to join him. He didn't get a one; instead, he got a bland, "You're early," as she shimmied out of her coat and unwound the scarf from around her neck.

"Hello to you, too," he replied with a Look. It never ceased to amaze him just how easy it was to regress whenever her was with his former classmates. Even with everything that'd happened, sometimes he still felt like a seventeen-year-old farm boy with more insecurities than sense.

Now she offered him a smile, folding her outerwear over the back of her chair. "Hey, Sam," she said, mouth quirked with amusement as she took her seat.

"Dani," he replied with a nod and easy grin.

When he pushed the cookie he bought toward her, her expression became more appreciative. "You remembered."

There was more to what she was saying than the words she spoke and he nodded to it all. "'Course, Chief." They sat for a minute in comfortable silence before the elephant in the room began to poke at him. "So…"

"No." Her eyes were on the tea that had somehow materialized before her, but her voice was firm. No hesitation, no question. She had known her answer long before she entered The Grind.

He gaped at her. "But-but you agreed t'meet!" he spluttered.

Still holding the cup with both hands, her gaze rose to meet his. "To tell you no," she answered easily. "In person." He blinked at her and she shook her head. "Gimme a break, Sam, I know you. You would've pestered me until we met up, anyway." He wanted to object but found it hard given the pragmatic way she presented herself. And the fact that she was right. "I just expedited the process."

Absently, he wondered when words like 'expedite' became part of her vocabulary. (It was like one day he blinked and suddenly they went from being dumb kids to real adults.) "But, Dani—" he tried again.

"No, Sam," she repeated stubbornly. Tough as nails. He should've known she would be—she always was. That was (one of the many reasons) why she'd been more of the field leader to the New Mutants than him.

He frowned at her all the same. He could be stubborn, too. "C'mon, Dani, I haven't even told you—"

"The answer," she interrupted in a slow but determined tone, "is  _no._ " Something new (something  _dangerous_ ) had entered her voice now. Most people would have backed down. He'd known her too long for that.

It was time for a new direction. "He's just a kid," he told her quickly. It was a low shot and he knew it but she hadn't left him with any other choices. He still remembered her killer instincts and everything she was willing to sacrifice for  _her_  kids.

Dani shifted in her seat, crossing her arms defensively because that was her go-to maneuver whenever she felt uncomfortable. "I don't have any powers," she pointed out.

He fought back a smile. At least it wasn't another no. "Doesn't matter," he assured her confidently. After all, she'd never needed her powers to handle herself. "You did."

With one hand still on her mug, she rested her chin in the palm of the other. Her stare was sharp and searching as she eyed Sam carefully. He didn't flinch, though he wouldn't have faulted anyone who did. It was like she could see right through him whenever she laid on that intense stare. (Sometimes he'd wondered if she was back when she had the power to draw out a person's strongest fears and desires.)

After what felt like a painfully long time, Dani's face relaxed into a more pensive expression. "How bad is it?" she asked.

"Bad," he answered sincerely. Because it was. Bad enough for him to get involved. (It'd been a long fight in Providence, after all.)

The way she nodded made him suspect she'd already known (or at least suspected) what the answer to that question would be. "Bad enough for you to step in." There was something in how she said it that made it sound like an agreement—that made him feel like she'd known he'd been thinking the exact same thing. (Maybe she did. Regardless of current X-Men politics, she'd always been able to read him like a book.)

Honestly, though, Sam didn't mind the mind reading. He was used to that by now. It was the air of resignation about her that bothered him. "Dani…"

She must've heard the concern in his tone because she cut him off quickly. "No, I just meant… for you to  _agree_  to step in." Her words could've been offensive if he didn't know her so well. But he did and the implication in her tone was definitely not against him. (Apparently, contemporary history was a good enough substitute for current affairs as far as X-Men politics were concerned.)

Instead, he shrugged. "Unfortunately, yeah."

"Dirty trick," she grumbled, sipping her tea.

He frowned again. "I know." Stuff like this—manipulating the family into doing the government's (or, worse, Emma's) bidding—it was all part of why he agreed to leave the mansion with Rogue in the first pace. Why he'd  _wanted_ to go, Sabretooth or no Sabretooth. (Although he definitely preferred no Sabretooth, hands down. Boy did he  _not_  miss that sucker.)

Her posture was stiff with anger as she stirred her tea with a bit too much vigor. "She kicked me out." There was no question who  _she_  was. "Out of my home, out of the lives of my students." Dani looked up. "And  _they_  let her." No question who  _they_  were, either. "What makes them think it's okay to toss me out one day and then ask me for help the next?" She scowled. "It doesn't work that way."

"I know," Sam repeated. There was no point in arguing. She probably wouldn't listen if he did and it wasn't like he disagreed on any particular point. He probably didn't need to, anyway; she was a good person and he'd never known her to do the wrong thing when she could do right.

To his surprise, Dani chuckled under her breath and shook her head. "It had to be you," she muttered, clearly bemused.

Confused, he blinked at her a couple of times. "Me?"

She smirked, inclining her head slightly. "Wouldn't have said yes to anyone else." She pushed her chair back in one smooth motion, standing with a grace and ease he would never possess. "It was good to see you, Hayseed." She tossed some money on the table, grabbed her stuff off the back of her chair and left him sitting dumbfounded. (Because she'd just said no to him a half dozen times and even though he had complete faith in her, he'd honestly expected more of a fight out of her.)

Staring after her for a long moment, he barely registered Luna clearing away Dani's plate and mug. Then he shook his head with his widest, goofiest grin on his face. It was still her, all right. Not that he'd ever doubted her. Mostly, he'd just wanted to see it for himself, to see  _her_. He just wanted to make sure that she was still her, despite all the crap that'd been thrown her way these last few months. And the answer was undeniable.

He summed it all up in six words as he finally rose to leave himself: "Good to see you, too, Dani."


End file.
